


Such A Nice Boy!

by DixieDale



Category: Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 13:51:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16430624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Andrew Carter and a simple mission gone totally amuck.  Early days, not long after Carter joins the crew.





	Such A Nice Boy!

It had been a simple mission, one Colonel Hogan thought even young Andrew Carter could probably manage without having something unfortunate happen. Just head into town, wait for the tall man with the dark glasses and the black astrakhan coat to come out of the hotel, and quietly, discreetly follow him and see who he met up with. Rumor was it was either Herr Biermann, owner of a small restaurant, or Herr Kranz, owner and proprietor of the local beer and wine store, but the reports were conflicting and it was urgent to be sure they were focused on the right man. The scrap of overheard conversation had been ambiguous, 'the bierman', (or was it 'the beer man'?), so now they had to figure out which was being referred to. 

In his instructions to Carter, Hogan had stressed the 'quietly, discreetly' part, since Andrew tended to be otherwise on occasion; not intentionally, of course, but he was more than a little accident-prone. Rene, leader of the local Underground, also taking part in the briefing, had emphasized, "We do not want anything unfortunate to befall you, Sergeant, and this man, whichever one it turns out to be, is quite dangerous, no matter how he may appear otherwise." 

But then, as Peter Newkirk ruefully commented later, "That's the right word for it, alright. 'Befall'. Cause if anyone can fall or trip or slide into trouble just by being on the scene, it's our Andrew." Of course, he didn't mention the number of times someone had said much the same about HIM. Actually, he didn't have to; the quick burst of laughter from his teammates said it for him. Of course, with Andrew, it was a combination of his clumsiness and his enthusiasm; with Peter Newkirk, it was just a natural talent.

Newkirk would have argued against sending Carter out alone, would have insisted on going along, or maybe even doing the job himself, but Newkirk was spending the last two days of a week-long stay in the cooler (once again) and couldn't undertake the mission himself. He couldn't even try to argue the Colonel out of the notion since Hogan was staying firmly out of reach. Unfortunately, Klink had decided to have Newkirk thrown into the one cell to which the team did NOT have a tunnel, so there was no way he could even get in a private word with their commanding officer. 

Newkirk fumed after hearing about it, all in whispers, from LeBeau who'd brought him his dinner. Newkirk, in the depths of his worrying about Andrew, even started wondering whether his being assigned to this particular cell hadn't been Hogan's idea just to keep him out of the picture; it would have taken very little effort on the Colonel's part to accomplish that. Hogan pretty well had the Kommandant in his pocket. {"Naw, 'e'd not do that; got to know I'd 'ave a better chance at the job than Andrew, and this one is important, from w'at Louie says."}. 

As a matter of fact, LeBeau had argued against sending Carter out alone, offering to go with the young American, but Klink had a visitor, a beautiful lady he was trying to impress, and that meant LeBeau had been co-opted for kitchen duty once again.

"Hey, Louie, don't worry! I'll be fine! This one's easy-peasy. A piece of pie! I'll be back before you know it!" Andrew insisted, an eager grin on his face. It was only the third time the Colonel had sent him out on a solo mission, and he was more than a little excited. So, okay, maybe he was a little scared, too, but he didn't intend any of the guys to know that, no siree bob! 

Kinch laid a firm hand on his shoulder, "just do the job, Andrew. Pay attention to what you're doing, stay out of trouble and come back safe. You know how Newkirk tends to ride you when you get yourself all banged up! He'll be complaining and bitching at you for a week, if not more, about being careless and clumsy and all that!" 

Andrew nodded, knowingly, "yeah, well, he worries about us. Don't tell him I said that, though, Kinch. You know how he likes to pretend he doesn't," and Kinch was startled into a laugh. Andrew sometimes had the oddest, actually highly naive notions about the rangy Englishman in their midst. A more cynical, self-centered individual Kinch had yet to meet, though talented in various ways, and dependable to work with, of course, especially in any of the more dubious activities they seemed to get involved in. Though, the look on LeBeau's face wasn't disputing that odd comment, seemed more in serious agreement with it. "Oui, Andre, come back safe. I do not want to have to explain to Pierre if you do not!"

He'd made it to town easily enough, well, for the most part, and that elderly couple in their even more elderly car seeming pleased to give him a ride after his bicycle ran amuck. The old woman had fussed over his scratched cheek, cleaned it with her handkerchief, patted him like he was favorite grandson, and they'd both waved him on his way at the edge of town as he asked. He was too far away to hear their worried discussion, "Such a nice boy, but a dreadful accent," the old man had frowned, and his wife of many years had nodded, "Yes, Dieter. It reminded me of that trip we took to the American midwest to attend Gerta's wedding. Do you remember?" Dieter and Anna exchanged another long look, then a deep sigh, and proceeded on to their destination, hoping the young man didn't run into anyone else who might have similar recollections. He truly had seemed like a nice boy.

It was a pleasant night, not in the least chilly, and dry, so the wait hadn't been uncomfortable at all. And it hadn't been boring, either; there'd been a couple of parties going on in the various rooms at the hotel, and he'd enjoyed seeing people go in and out, could even watch some of the socializing through the windows, at least til they remembered to pull the heavy curtains. He was almost so interested in everything else, he was almost startled to see the tall man in dark glasses and that astrakhan coat leave through a side door and head down the sidewalk toward the shop district.

{"Well, THAT'S not helpful!"} Andrew fumed silently. The man had visited BOTH places, the beer and wine shop first and the restaurant afterwards, pausing to sit and have a glass of white wine at the first place, order a glass of beer at the second. From Andrew's position near the door, he could see the man engaged both of the potential contacts in conversation, so he didn't see how he'd learned anything helpful. The Colonel was going to be disappointed, he knew, but he couldn't see how he could pin it down to one or the other. Still, that small mug of beer at the first stop had been pleasant, and he'd been seriously studying the menu at the restaurant when that pretty blonde waitress caught his eye. He sighed {"Boy, I DO miss looking at pretty girls sometimes! I wonder if Newkirk knows this one? I bet the Colonel does!"} and smiled at her, getting a coy smile in return, until Herr Biermann barked something at her, and she hurried away to serve a table of newcomers. 

Dinner turned out not to be feasible when he saw that astrakhan coat being re-donned, (the beer hardly having been tasted), and the wearer hurrying out into the night. Andrew dropped a few coins on the table, looking regretfully at that menu, and followed after. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but maybe something would turn up, something that the Colonel could use. He glanced back to see the pretty blonde picking up the coins, nodding her puzzled thanks at the tip when he hadn't even ordered anything. She'd turned back at a call from a corner table, thinking to herself, {"He seemed like such a nice young man; I wish he hadn't hurried away!"} touching her pocket with that unexpected, that unnecessarily kind tip from the stranger.

The night was turning cooler, and Andrew pulled his jacket more firmly around him. That fancy coat had certainly made the rounds; after leaving Biermann's, it had stopped at the greengrocer to check out the display, exchanging a few words with Max, the owner. From there it was to look at the wares in the hardware store, and then to the bakery, where he insisted on purchasing a few pastries, even though the clerk had protested, having been just putting up the night chain. Then . . . 

{"Well, isn't that something. Huh. Why would he be headed back where he started?"} But that seemed to be exactly what was happening as Andrew followed along as the man turned back down the narrow street that housed the establishments of Herr Kranz at one end, and Herr Biermann at the other. Andrew hung back, trying to stay inconspicuous, though that was becoming more and more difficult with so few people on the street now. From the shadows, he watched as his quarry tapped at a side door, which was opened by a silent Herr Kranz. Somehow, the speed with which Kranz drew the stranger inside, closed and latched the door, told Andrew he may have found their man.

He'd thought to wait, follow along when the man came back out, but the appearance of the lone soldier, making his tipsy way along the street, put paid to that idea. The soldier's spotting of Andrew, his belligerent approach told him this wasn't something he could talk himself out of and started out at a quick pace. He understood just enough of the sharp demands to know he wasn't being in danger of being arrested, but in danger of being robbed, and he took off at a run, only to have another soldier step out of a dark passageway with something in his hand. Andrew dodged past, avoiding the knife, somehow knocking the solder back into the wall and then back into the path of the pursuer. Knowing he couldn't outrun them, he searched for a hiding spot, and saw that crack of light under a door, then saw the light disappear. Trying the knob, he found it unlocked and made his way inside, to find himself once again inside Herr Biermann's establishment, though this time apparently alone. 

Making his way in the dim light, he went through one door, then another, searching for the door that would lead him to the alley. Then, he heard noises and knew he wasn't alone anymore, and he quickly searched for a place to hide. The light flicked on, and the pretty waitress was there, a wicked looking cleaver in her hand. He froze when he realized she'd spotted him; well, he had been afraid the space hadn't been deep enough, but it was all he could find in the second kitchen, the one behind the more public one to the rear of the dining room, the one reached by a door he had thought sure would lead to the alley. At first he'd not understood why there was another kitchen, but then he took a long look around, gulped and fought with his stomach to keep from throwing up.

She'd not screamed, though, hadn't called for help, just laid one finger over her smiling lips. She'd winked him, too, those pretty blue eyes he'd noted before, now shining with sweet amusement, and motioned him to stay where he was, turning to answer a man's voice obviously asking a question from the next room, "ja Papa, jetz sofort". Andrew gulped once again, realizing 'pretty' didn't have to equal 'sane'. But then, the whole war seemed insane to him sometimes, though this little adventure pretty much took the cake in his experience so far. He knew he was going to have a hard time forgetting what he'd just seen from his position in behind those piled boxes. And while he was pretty sure the girl wasn't going to expose him, well, he couldn't say the same for the rest of her family. Taking another look around, he knew exposure to the Germans wasn't his ONLY concern.

When she finished her preparations in the kitchen, (a scene he prayed he could forget, but doubted he ever would), she'd motioned to him with her head, and then she'd gone to the back door, unlocked it and pulled it open just enough he could slip through. He was sweating heavily, hoping he'd judged her right, that it wasn't just a cruel trick. 

"Auf Wiedersehen, sweet boy," she'd whispered as he moved past. He was more than a little relieved to find himself in the alley, not in a third kitchen or somewhere worse. If there was a worse place; right now, he wasn't so sure he could think of one. The scene flashed in front of him again, that meat hook, her with the butcher's knife, so calmly . . . The burst of nausea overcame him and he spent a few precious minutes throwing up whatever little was in his stomach, thankful now that he HADN'T taken time to order anything in the little restaurant, for more reason than one.

Andrew had barely made it back to camp in time to hurriedly change clothes and get back into uniform for roll call. There'd certainly been no time for casual conversation. Later, when he reported to Hogan, he'd told him about his mission, well most of it, anyway. By then, he'd convinced himself that he'd been imagining things as a result of not just that early tumble from his bicycle, but also from tumbling down that embankment on the way back to Stalag 13. 

{"Sure, that's it; bumped my head once too often, that's all. Boy, can't tell the guys what I thought I saw! They won't trust me out alone again, maybe ever! Newkirk keeps telling me that I let my imagination get carried away with me sometimes, and I guess maybe he's right!"}. 

So Hogan and the guys heard about the stranger in that strange coat, his long travels around the town, but finally that secret second meeting with Herr Kranz. They heard about the bicycle, that nice couple who gave him a lift, the soldiers chasing him but him getting away, and then that uncomfortable fall on the way back; well, he DID have a number of scrapes and bruises to account for. And yes, Newkirk had given him a good scolding about being "the clumsiest git I've ever known, Andrew! Knew we shouldn't've let you out there by yourself. NEXT time, I'm coming along; who knows w'at you'll get yourself into on your own!" And, as always, LeBeau had just chuckled, and Kinch looked on as if Andrew's response just made no sense to being harangued like that - that wide grin and eager look, "gee, thanks, Newkirk! Boy! That'd be great!"

And that was the end of it. Rene and the Underground were alerted to Herr Kranz and managed things in their own way from that point on. Well, except for the boredom-relieving storytelling a couple of months later, when Newkirk started re-telling the old story of Sweeney Todd, The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, and stopped abruptly at the odd look on Carter's face. "Ei, Andrew. You alright? Not sickening for something, are you?" 

Newkirk watched with concern while Andrew gulped a couple of times and plastered a weak smile on his face, "No, I'm fine, really. Think I'll just go check on that experiment I've got going in the tunnel; you go on with the story, never mind me." 

And, no matter how hungry they got when they were in town for a job, for once Andrew put his foot down. "No, NOT Biermann's place, guys. Trust me on this one, okay??"


End file.
